


Shelter

by MJ (mjr91)



Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M, Owen Harper - Freeform, Torchwood - Freeform, Toshiko Sato - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-25
Updated: 2012-04-25
Packaged: 2017-11-04 07:48:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjr91/pseuds/MJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Owen and Tosh die, their rivalry over Jack becomes pointless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shelter

("A faithful friend is a sturdy shelter; he who finds one finds a treasure." - Sirach 6:14)

 

 

They had always been friends, though an outsider might have been hard pressed to notice it at several times.

The business with Lisa had certainly put a damper on things. Admittedly, calling what had happened "the business with Lisa" tended to minimize the damage to Torchwood and the even greater damage to his feelings, but the way she'd gone about hiding her own business with Owen hadn't been altogether endearing either, had it. She shouldn't complain about Ianto and Lisa after her own cheating on Rhys, and then her retconning him after confessing to the affair. There was no one in Torchwood who had any business casting the first stone about anything. The work might be heroic, but saving the world – or at least Cardiff – on a regular basis didn't make anyone there anything more or less than human.

Then there was that matter of her crush on Jack. That had been difficult around the edges; neither Ianto nor Jack had wanted to hurt her feelings by throwing it in her face. It was just that, after Abbadon, even though she'd been the loyal disciple maintaining vigil by her master's body, Jack hadn't been able to control his sheer delight at Ianto's very presence, embracing him in a way that made very clear that all she'd had was a crush, not anything Jack reciprocated, and her loyalty to him had been rewarded with agape, not eros. Mary and Martha had fared no better after Jesus had risen, had they – it had always been about "the beloved disciple", and for Jack, that disciple plainly had been Ianto.

While Jack had been gone, to places unknown, Gwen and Ianto had first tiptoed around each other very carefully, neither wanting to intrude on the other's personal pain at missing Jack. When Gwen had finally made her decision to let Jack go and to marry Rhys, it had been easier for her to console Ianto about his loss. An actual relationship was a greater loss than unrequited – had it been love? Lust? A ridiculous teenaged crush on the dashing, heroic leader? She wasn't sure, but it seemed embarrassing to look back on it, or to think that she had once fancied a slight competition between herself and her co-worker for Jack's attentions. She'd hoped that Ianto would be able to let go, and to look back on things more peacefully, as well, but while she'd had the faith that Jack would live, it was Ianto, not she, who'd had the faith that Jack would return.

Their score on Jack was 1-1, permanent advantage Ianto, but she had Rhys, and likely that was better for her. Ianto, on the other hand, managed to thrive on Jack's wildness; apparently it called to something in him that was disguised under the fine wool of an Anderson and Sheppard chalk-striped suit and a Thomas Pink shirt and tie. Perhaps under the one suit lurked another, one prepared for safari with a Martini-Henry rifle under arm, and the object of the hunt was the tracking of the wild Harkness.

But somehow, while she was following Jack's orders and turning into a leader herself, and while Ianto was being Ianto and doing whatever miraculous things he had been doing, Jack had been taken by Gray and been buried. After two thousand years later had come back to life for them and saved them as well, but he hadn't been able to save Owen, the prodigal son, or Tosh, the dutiful daughter of Zephthah, Even the wild Harkness, even the closest thing to a messiah that Torchwood had, was imperfect. He was just one hell of a lot further ahead of everyone else coming around the curve than anyone else was.

Now – now that nothing else made sense, now that all she could do was collapse onto Jack's shoulder, Ianto on Jack's other side, trying to do "stoic", she let Ianto pry her off of Jack and slide himself under her shoulder, arm around her waist, supporting her. An absolutely immaculate white linen handkerchief appeared from nowhere and was pressed into her hand. "Jack – call Rhys and let him know I'm taking her home. I don't think she should be driving right now. Tell him I may want some help getting her out of the car when I get to their flat." His voice was so quiet that she barely made out the words… or was it that she was too much in shock to pay attention to anything outside her?

"Right." A pause. "Ianto… if she needs someone besides Rhys with her… or if you need people around… I'll be all right."

"Hush. I'll be back as soon as I can." One of them kissed the other – it was too difficult to look to see which one, and it didn't matter anyway, none of it did, except that Ianto was propping her up and taking care of her, and he always did that anyway, didn't he, for Tosh too and even Owen, even when Owen was at his worst… and Owen and Tosh weren't there now, were they, and it was almost too much.

"Do you need me to help carry her?"

"No, I'll be fine right now – it's the getting her out of the car later. Rhys can help me with that." They were moving, and it wasn't clear whether her feet had anything to do with it; she'd felt like this when she'd had too much, but never when she wasn't drinking, and then she'd go hit something and bruise or cut herself, but Ianto had hold of her and he wasn't going to drop her… Owen had dropped her, and Tosh couldn't even save herself, but she and Ianto, oh, they were the ones who believed, weren't they, and now Ianto was carrying her and who only knew who carried Ianto at times like this.

And there were only three of them now, so she tried moving her arm, and now it was around Ianto somehow or another, and she had to hang on, because with only three, no one could dare to let go. And Jack, oh, Jack was the father, and that meant Ianto was the son, and who was it said Sophia was female… and Ianto and she, oh, they were the ones who believed.


End file.
